I Don’t Know About You, But Dating Apps Are A Comedy Goldmine. Don’t Get Me Wrong—I Understand

Three days to go, we’ll be saying hello to 2021. But it feels like we’re stuck in 2020 because of the pandemic. 

February 16, 2024

I find myself feeling a bit bored and lonely lately. It seems like work has taken over most aspects of my life, and I often crave some time alone to reset and find a sense of peace. Moving on from a heartbreak has proven to be quite challenging, and I genuinely wish no one had to endure the pain that comes with it. It's a difficult emotion to navigate, and sometimes it feels easier to succumb to it rather than fighting against it because it demands to be felt.

Love, as beautiful as it can be, sometimes has an expiration date. There are moments when you're overflowing with love for someone, only to wake up one day realizing that the feelings have changed. It's a tough position to be in, and as one-half of the relationship, letting go becomes the only viable option when it becomes one-sided.

Reflecting on being single, I wonder if it's a stroke of luck. In this state, you can avoid the potential heartache and solely focus on caring for yourself. Enjoying your own company becomes a gift, especially when friends are occupied with their own lives. It's liberating not to worry about upsetting someone just because you didn't get back to their messages. On the other hand, while it can feel lonely at times, I understand that people have their own lives and priorities, and I respect that.

Surprisingly, the highlight of my days is conversing with my therapist. It struck me as amusing that lonely individuals seek solace in paying therapists to listen, and I find myself falling into that category. Loneliness is a challenging emotion, and having someone to talk to about it has become a source of comfort for me.

I deserved better than these clandestine meetings

There’s something irresistible about seeing the world through rose-colored glasses, isn’t there? The way everything glows with possibility, how hope somehow softens reality’s harsh edges. I’ve always been that person—the one who walks straight into the fire, not quite realizing until it’s too late that I’m bound to get burned.

When I meet someone new, be it a friend or a lover, I’m quick to embrace the beauty in them. I’m captivated by their quirks, their charm, their flaws that I somehow convince myself I can fix. It’s as though I’m spellbound by the idea that, despite what everyone else sees, this connection is different. "No," I think, "they don’t understand." And while the people around me see warning signs flashing like bright neon lights, I remain oblivious, wrapped in the fantasy I’ve built around this person or situation.

Perhaps it’s my unwavering belief in the good in people, or maybe it’s the romantic in me that refuses to let go of the narrative that love, friendship, or loyalty can conquer all. Others whisper in my ear, gentle but firm, “Can’t you see? This is going to hurt you.” But their words are like smoke in the wind—there one moment, gone the next—unable to penetrate the dream I’m living in.

Time and time again, I find myself drawn to those whose hearts are closed off, whose intentions aren’t pure, or whose presence in my life is anything but good for me. Yet, I stay. I convince myself that if I just hold on a little longer, the tide will turn, the light will shine through the cracks, and things will change. I remain, steadfast in my denial, until—inevitably—the story crumbles, and the weight of reality hits me like a wave.

And then, there’s the aftermath. The unraveling of everything I thought I knew, the sudden clarity that leaves me breathless, wondering how I didn’t see it all along. It’s a bittersweet symphony, really—this constant cycle of falling for the wrong people, making excuses, ignoring the inevitable, only to be left standing in the ruins of what could have been.

But I suppose that’s the price of seeing the world in a way that others don’t. I chase after the dream, the ideal, the promise of something beautiful, even if it’s fleeting. And though it often leaves me with scars, there’s something tragically romantic about the fact that I’m willing to risk the fall. Because deep down, I believe that one day, amidst all the red flags I so easily ignore, I’ll find something real, something worth holding on to.

Until then, I’ll continue to stumble blindly through the mess, still hopeful, still searching, and still seeing the world with those rose-colored glasses—until they finally shatter.

Good night!

Saying goodbye to someone you once loved hits differently—it feels like you’re losing a piece of yourself, like the life you built together is slipping away. But as time passes, you start to see it for what it is: not a loss, but a chance to rediscover yourself and take back your heart. You learn to put your own needs, dreams, and happiness first. That’s where I am now, standing in that new, unfamiliar freedom.

No, I don’t want you back. Not in the way I once thought I would. We’ve grown older, and, more importantly, we’ve grown apart. The connection that once kept us close has faded, and with it, my need for you. I’ve taken that step many fear – the step towards reclaiming my own life, apart from the one we shared.

In the process of moving forward, I found myself rediscovering who I am. When you're with someone for so long, it's easy to lose yourself. You start compromising, blending your personality to fit theirs, and sometimes you forget the things that made you... you. But now, after letting go, I’ve started to rebuild. I’ve taken back my heart, my sense of self, and with that came the courage to start fresh.

I packed my bags and moved to a new city – the place where I was supposed to restart, to thrive, and find my footing. But instead, I’ve found myself feeling… nothing. It’s not that I expected things to immediately fall into place, but there’s an emptiness I can’t shake. It’s like I’m in the right spot for a new beginning, but my heart and mind just aren’t ready to bloom yet.

It’s strange. I’ve planted myself in fertile soil – a new city, new surroundings, new opportunities – but I refuse to let anything take root. I know there’s the potential for something beautiful to grow, whether it’s new friendships, a new love, or simply a new sense of belonging. Yet, for now, I’ve been keeping everything at a distance.

Maybe it’s fear. Fear of letting anything new take hold, knowing that it could uproot me once again. Or maybe it’s just that I need more time to heal, more time to understand who I am in this new chapter of my life. It’s hard to open up when you’ve just closed a door that was such a big part of your identity.

But even if I feel nothing at the moment, I know it’s temporary. I know that, eventually, something will take root – whether I let it or not. Life has a way of moving forward, even when we resist it. So, while I might not be ready right now, I’m learning to be patient with myself. I’m learning that it’s okay to not feel like I’m flourishing just yet. The seeds of growth are there; they’re just waiting for the right time to sprout.

For now, I’ll keep rediscovering myself, taking back more pieces of my heart and soul. And when the time comes, I’ll be ready to let something beautiful grow.

It's too powerful I just wanna die.

i miss going out.

I thought I was ok. Then he suddenly crossed my mind. I kept crying again. So I stood up, looked in the mirror and remembered the way he made me feel—that I wasn't worth the wait.

Maybe I wasn’t praying hard enough. Maybe He has another plan— a beautiful one. But God, that was so painful. I don’t have anyone to talk to, and no one takes me seriously. Maybe it’s because I always laugh at tragedy, having grown so used to it.

Woke up with a blurry right eye